After the Projecto Cohiba we sauntered. And meandered over to El Capitolo, and took shots of the ‘56 – ‘59 Chevy’s parked along the broad boulevard.
Sauntering around Havana
We were haggled along the way by a seemingly nice, friendly honest old Cuban, who wanted boyfriend to “take” a Che Guevara coin from him. He feigned hurt offense as we declined, then upon final forced acceptance he demanded a dollar 💵. So we gave it back, too, disillusioned.
Passed the heavily secured Granma Sanctuary, or Cuban National Mausoleum, with a guard waving us on toward the entry gate. Our time running low, we scanned the heavily propagated displays on Cuban heroic national martyrism during the onslaught of the revolutionary masses and feasted our sights upon clothing pieces and eye glasses donned by leaders of the revolution at the Museo de Revolution, where else? As it was closing time, we were kindly granted by the authorities to return again mañana.
From there, we spent a good deal of time sauntering around town, mainly Habana Vieja, the Old Town area. Very cool architecture and a great old silent colonial time-stood-still atmosphere. One of the inherent charms of visiting Communist and former commy countries.
Colorful Havana
The colors are great – washed out varied pastels and vibrant hues; columns; and decor wrought iron; balconies and full size windows overlooking cobblestone narrow streets and alleyways. Kind of European, the churches and plazas, combined with a Mediterranean or Caribbean atmosphere, climate and persona wise.
The Weather warm, sunny as the music bursting from every turn to the tunes of Buena Vista Social Club and Mark Anthony, Luis Miguel. It was great.
Not a lot of shops, but great architecture on the old houses, no upkeep adds to their charm; and streets of people oozing with character and life. Cuban people smile a lot and way open, friendly and outgoing.
In a park, we chatted up with our friend Cory, the lifeguard- slash taxi driver. It was interesting and good talking with him, gaining insight to the difficulties of life under Communist rule. The realities are always more real when explained by a local – such as the poor condition of old faltering medical equipment and technologies even though medical care is free and provided for all, the country is BP very underfunded and outdated in modern medical facilities.
Learning from the Locals
Also the school system which is great that everybody receives an education, but what to do with it? As cautioned by Cory and a later opportunist profiteering taxi driver in a mafia government Mercedes who gave us his number to call, the education is there, but the opportunities are lacking seriously.
No wages paid by government sector above $10 per month. Teachers, engineers (one of our taxi drivers was an engineer), and doctors all earn jack (which is slang for nothing).
Anyway Cory very friendly, honest guy apparently, open to discussion and the admittance of his country’s governmental shortcomings, was free and open to talk over all subjects with us. Boyfriend and I usually managed to piece together most of what people were telling us.
One thing we definitely understand was that he wanted to take us to a Casa Particulare and a Paladare (or whatever) for “lobster 🦞 langosta, ensalada, arroz – you know rice, and beans…” all for very cheap. He was offering to take us to his house on Playa Este and meet his pretty wife and their two kids, and even to drive us around the country. Well it was all very kind, but we declined, taking his nombre and numero.
During our talks with Cory on the moat-side wall, we were approached about three times for dollars – by somebody selling flowers; some just asking where we’re from; and a guy wanting to sell us coins si we gave him a Mexican Peso and a U.S. quarter so “el tiene tres pais “ dinero – it worked for him. And lastly by an old guy popping out his eyeball to the side of his head, presumably for a dollar. That was gross.
Checking out Hemingways Hangouts
We wandered around some more on our own, waiting till the right place hit us atmospherically for dinner. Hemmingway’s Bodeguita and La Floridita were a tad too packed and glitzy for our modest likings. We continued and settled down (quite comfortably I might add) at the recommended “Patio Restaurant” right smack in the center of the old cathedral plaza. A great soaking it up area. Lots of (well only) tourists drinking mohitas Mojitos and doing the eschuche jam to the rad eight-piece music band. That music was great and everywhere we went. One of the reasons I was so hip to go on Cuba 🇨🇺 and just even better than I could have anticipated. I didn’t know it would be so good, it was only in my imagination until we got there, to find that beat music so a part of the Cuban culture. Muy fabulousa.
Well after a couple mohitas we started chatting with the two Irish lads next to us, the guy and gal. They were pretty interesting, albeit conservative demeaned and he, quite a serious chap. We ventured on to check out “La Casa de Ron” which for some strange reason for a rum tasting house, closed at 7:30 p.m. The La Floridita restaurant was like we mentioned a little too…
Back we strolled, stopping at the old town pharmacia to pick up some mosquito 🦟 remedy, and a few bad quality photos, to a bar we had seen with a three-piece band and two-piece singers, until sweet boyfriend and I joined them to make four, and “no f-ing on the dance.”
After some serious convo with our Irish ☘️ friend on the state of the world events, we parted and got to ride back to our Hotel Riviera in a little bubble taxi car, along the Malecon. Very cool, we were loving life.
May or June 2001
